


loved like any other

by kidotomy



Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2020-07-09 04:30:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19881673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kidotomy/pseuds/kidotomy
Summary: — otherwise titled 'Ike isn't the only person who cares for a certain darkened mage. A loose collection of Soren-centric drabbles.





	1. Titania

[640]

Soren was five when he was sold to a sage. He was seven, when that sage died and seven too when he first experienced kindness. He was eight when he could finally speak, and eleven when he found that boy again.

Ike. _Ike_ , was a word he held very dear to him, tumbling through his mind like a mantra, a prayer so that he may never, goddess forbid, forget his one tie. When he could finally speak, it perched on his lips, burning warmth in the darkness of any cold he faced (and how cold the world could be, Soren knew so intimately.) _Ike_ was his lifeline in a black sea, one syllable of hope. Every rare flash of blue in a crowd struck his heart, never right, always disappointing, but he would search another day, another week, another year.

Soren is eleven. At least he thinks he is, he'd counted very carefully the season between the things he knows--when he became a possession of the Sage she'd said he was five then, when she sold him, his not-mother, and Soren could only assume she'd said it true and he'd remembered it so. It's the year 639, so says the church, which means he was born, probably, in 628. According to his math, such things seemed correct.

Soren holds the things he knows about himself very close, because those things number very few.

He is eleven, the woman he only hazily remembers was not his mother, he is scared of the dark, he was trained for two years by a man who's name he never knew, his name was given to him by that same sage and it meant things like _stern_ , and he is a very skilled mage.

When he hears the name Ike outside a ruddy tavern, he feels very scared all of a sudden, and very very hopeful. He listens carefully, his slight shaking feeling more like a big church bell is ringing inside his skin, and he picks out that Ike is the son of a mercenary. Greil. He takes that name, and asks a kindly-looking woman who, or more importantly where, the Greil mercenaries are. They are close, very close. He has spent four years wandering Crimea, to land right in the lap of his quarry.

'If you hurry', which Soren certainly is, 'it's barely two days travel out of town' and there he ends up outside a fort. It's not very large, perhaps one of the smallest forts Soren had ever seen in his travels, and he can't help the part of him that is desperately looking for that boy.

He doesn't find him.

He is met instead with a tall woman with striking red hair, braided neatly on her back, half dressed in armor, wiping the sweat from her forehead while she eyes him curiously, one hand steadying her axe (which is larger than Soren is entirely).

When she asks what she can do for him, Soren finds his fingers nervously grasping his tome, the one object that could be counted among his belongs. He isn't sure how to approach this in anyway but honestly—contrary to his usual attitude. As a wandering orphan child, Soren is no stranger to thievery and lying.

Instead he says, "I'm looking for a boy named Ike."

She's clearly surprised, but quickly supplies that Ike does indeed live here, but isn't there at the moment. Nor is the commander, but Titania, the name she offers, welcomes Soren inside anyway as the second in command. Soren thinks she should be a little more cautious about letting strange children in, but her kind demeanor holds off any untoward comments.

"How do you know Ike?" She asks, and this time Soren is tempted to lie, but the only ones that come to mind would be easily shot down by someone close to the boy, which he has a feeling this woman is. But he isn't eager either to tell the truth, like telling her about his most important moment would take it away from him. He closes his eyes, and clutches his tome.

"We met in Gallia, I've been looking for him ever since."

She was surprised before, but now shocked might be a better descriptor.

"Gallia—that's… we haven't been there in years."

"Four years," Soren supplies. Titania nods. She'd like to ask a lot of questions, but the closed off and nervous energy surrounding the child had her pause.

"Well, like I said, he's not here at the moment. But he'll be back in a week or so's time, if you'd like to wait."

Soren is hinged between disappointment and excitement, and a little bit of dread as Titania doesn't seem eager to let him go without further questioning. Soren ignores the curious looks from two boys that catch him walking with Titania in the halls of the fort—shifting a bit to hide behind her. She smiles and places a hand on his head, shooing the other children off and leading him away from prying eyes.

"I'm sure you're hungry, right?"

His only answer is a slight nod, and Soren finds himself in awe of not only her intuition, but her gentleness. _This is the kind of person I should have expected to be around him_ , he muses alone in his mind. He hadn't expected such warmth when he was standing outside a mercenary's fortress, but here he was inside with another kind stranger thinking beyond all odds maybe he should have. Of course the first person who'd ever shown him kindness would have been beget of similar graces.

Ike may have been the first, but now Soren could count Titania as the third who had shown him some lingering kindness. He couldn't help a small smile as he ate, a simple sandwich much like the one he'd receive years ago. He'd not come with a plan per se, but he did not come this far just to glimpse upon the boy, and Titania's tenderness was just as attractive.

"I could be useful," he tells her, the nervous itch in his stomach rising again, but there are other children here, he saw… "I'm a skilled mage." perhaps he could be one of them. With Ike.

She's not in a position to accept anyone into their ranks without Griel's presence, but she also knows he'd have just as hard of a time turning the boy away too.

"You should meet the commander first," She smiles again. It's not a no. Soren nods. 

* * *

When Greil and Ike (and Mist, who Soren comes to find is Ike's younger sister) have returned, the mercenary's son is all too eager to have a boy his age (that isn't Boyd) to entertain, and Mist seems similarly enchanted. Soren does his best to take the attention in stride—and Titania doesn't miss the adoration in the way he looks at Ike. Greil doesn't either, and when Titania grins and crooks her arm into his shoulder, he knows easily it's a losing battle.

"Wind magic is my inclination, but I'm adept with lightning and fire as well," Soren rushes when Greil asks him what he can _do_. It's a tall claim for a child of his age, but one easily proved. Soren is no braggart.

"Well, we don't have a mage among us, you'd certainly be an asset…" Greil mutters, but he couldn't help but smile. Muted as he was, even he could see the eager look to the mage child. Greil considered his mercenaries a family, and here was one more.

With a half-hearted curse upon Titania, Greil assures Soren he'd better earn his keep. 

* * *

Titania is someone special, Soren thinks. She reminds him quite a bit of Ginerva, the prioress who'd taught him to speak the common language when he finally stumbled into Crimea. He touched his forehead, feeling the so-slight raise of his brand. Nobody among the mercenaries had commented a word upon it, for which Soren was glad. A spirit charmer's mark, anyone and everyone assumed. Soren wasn't quite as sure.

He had no memories of spirits, only being locked in that small, dark room, for which the sage had intended to leave him until he presented a power Soren did not seem to possess. In the church, he remembered the prioress cutting his hair, framing it nearly around his forehead. She had held it gently, and said Soren should never hide what the goddess had made him as, because she would see his whole regardless.

He wasn't sure how he felt about that, or the supposed goddess at all, and he _really_ wasn't sure what his whole even was, but he'd held his tongue on Ginerva's teachings when she had been generous enough to bring him into her church and arm him with words.

Titania is really special, he's sure. She gives him a new set of clothes and says he is welcome in the study whenever he would like. It's where she does the bookkeeping and keeps records for the company, along with housing what little books they had, and where Titania or Rhys taught simple lessons to the (frankly ridiculous number of) children in the fort.

Soren appreciates that, quite a bit. Even more the fact every few weeks it seems another book mysteriously joins the shelves, he is not clueless, but unfamiliar with expressing gratitude. Anyone who might be looking for Soren always looks there first, and it was only a matter of time before Soren even began helping Titania with the records.

 _You have a sharp mind Soren_ , she says. He smiles that quick and small smile she had become familiar with, not often seen away from herself or Ike.

Soren is just glad to be of use. 

* * *

Soren has never cried in front of another person in his entire life—not the woman, or the sage, or even Ginerva.

It happens like this.

Late nights in the study were not at all uncommon for him, but this night he fell asleep there at the table, and by the time he woke the candle had extinguished; and there in the blackened room fear took hold. The book he'd slept on thudded to the ground as he startled, almost falling from the chair as his breathing hitched and quickened. His hands twisted and grasped his simple robe as he curled into a ball. His mind confused, he felt truly then as if he were still in Gallia, the sage still living, and not for the first time he was locked there in the darkness, with nothing to look forward to but the beating he would surely incur when his isolation did not procure greater power.

It wasn't uncommon either, for Titania to check on each of the children before bed (and more often than not coerce Soren into one.) However when the door creaked open and her meager lamplight illuminated Soren twisted on the floor she gasped, rushing in to gather him in her arms.

"Soren, what's wrong? Are you hurt?"

Through the haze, it took him more than a moment to realize he was not alone, gaping doe-eyed at the woman holding him by the shoulders before three quick breaths, a shudder. He shook his head, tears beading his eyes shamefully as he registered his pathetic display. How foolish his sleepy mind, he—

Titania held him tighter, bringing him to her chest.

"It's alright, Soren."

 _I'm sorry, I'm sorry._ He couldn't speak, but he cried then, as quietly as he could, grasping her nightdress with small, bony fingers. She held him tightly, rubbing his back and murmuring small platitudes until he'd exhausted himself, dissolving into small sniffling and red, aching eyes. He doesn't say a word for the rest of the night, but Titania lets him sleep in the quiet women's barracks that night where only she and Mist normally slept, brushing his hair out of his face as he slipped into unconsciousness. 

* * *

"Soren's a very empathetic young man," she would say someday, and after nearly six years of watching over him she would certainly know.

When Soren thinks he is unfamiliar with the feeling of a family, Ike is gentle in reminding him how dearly Soren was part of his, and how well loved he truly is. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to do more ficlets surrounding Soren's relationships with people besides Ike if I can muster the motivation. Hopefully I'll get the pen to paper soon :)  
> Thanks for reading.


	2. Mist

[640]

Mist is nine, and she _wishes_ another girl would come live at their fort, especially someone her age. Titania is wonderful, and really good at all the things Mist wishes she could do too, like sewing and cooking. But Titania is an _adult_ , and really busy on top of it. When Ike and Boyd try endlessly to show each other up with training weapons, Mist would find a sunny spot to draw. And she _liked_ drawing, but she didn’t like _being alone_.

She’s excited when she comes home from a trip with father and Ike to see a new girl there talking to Titania, and then really disappointed when she realizes Soren isn’t a girl at all. But she doesn’t say that to him.

 _And_ she realizes, Soren isn't like Ike and Boyd at all. But she is jealous, because now Ike won’t leave Soren alone, and she’d still been hoping to make a friend out of him, even if he isn’t a girl. Ike and his stupid—stupid _boy monopoly_. But she isn’t going to give up, she’s going to try harder.

The problem is Soren is shy. Like _really_ shy. When she tries to talk to him he barely answers, and she can tell he’s just trying really hard to be polite, like he does with Titania and Ike, and then he escapes with some clever excuse. Mist is nine, not dumb. She knows Soren is avoiding her, and then he says ‘I don’t know why you think we could get along,’ and it kind of makes her cry when he’s gone.

Ike _shrugs_ and just says that’s how Soren is, and he probably didn’t mean it like that. 

Mist nods, and soaks her tears with the sleeve of her shirt.

* * *

Two weeks later, Mist sees Soren sitting under her favorite tree, sunlight dappling his black robes in shades of grey, holds her sketchbook very tight and marches over to him—no, no she _doesn’t_ march, she walks _very calmly_ and quietly over like approaching a stray cat.

“Can I sit with you?” She’s blunt, feeling very red in the face.

Soren curl in on himself slightly, knees bunching closer to his chest, arms crooked in.

“Sure,” he breathes.

“Thanks,” She echoes, smiling nervously, giddy but afraid. She sits next to him quickly, awkwardly, and flips open her book without another word. Soren’s eyes have glued themselves back to his book.

She feels like she could snap one of her pencils clean in half, just on accident, with how tightly she is holding it. She doesn’t. She tries to relax. This is _her_ favorite spot, and she likes to draw, so she does.

Mist doesn’t know how long it’s been now, but she’s almost filled a page with pretty flowers, trees and a poor rendition of Rhys. Some things are haphazardly scratched out. She hears Soren take a shaky breath, and glances his way but his hair is hiding his profile.

“I’m… _sorry_ I made you cry, before.” Comfort is not a language Soren knows, but he’s pulling on the ends of his hair and Mist sees his flushed ears. Ike must have told him she cried, but she doesn’t mind so much.

  
“It’s okay,” She smiles, and holds her sketchbook towards him. “I’m not very good, but can I draw you?”  
  
He nods, eyes capturing the details of the page, noting the portrait of Rhys along with it. He’d used up his words already, but Mist seems content with what he said. She turns to face him, the grass tickling her knees as she moved; and promptly hunched over her paper to draw, frequently glancing up at Soren who was increasingly flustered.

But Mist saw his little smile when she showed him the drawing, and considered it a win. 

* * *

When Boyd laughs and says it’s fitting for Soren to hang out with _the girl_ since he looks so much like one, it’s Mist who puffs out her cheeks and defends him. Soren’s knuckles went white as he gripped his tome, lips parted but unspeaking, while Mist, three years his junior is more than happy to retort.

“You’re so immature Boyd! If you’re so manly why can’t you even lift Titania’s axe?”

Boyd sputters and indignant objection, and Mist grabs Soren by the hand and sticks her tongue out.

“You’re just mad Soren’s way stronger than you with his magic, _and_ he’s cuter.”  
  
“Like I care about that!” Boyd shouts, but Mist is laughing and pulling Soren away. He lets himself be dragged in the opposite direction that Boyd stomps away in, quiet and flustered.

“Don’t listen to him, okay?” Her smile is almost blinding, and Soren only knows to nod. 

* * *

[643]

Mist is twelve when she ambushes Soren in the study (she thinks he really needs more fresh air than musty books, but she’d already told him _that_ ), this time with a basket of needle and thread, cushioned with scraps of linen.

“Soren! Can I embroider your robes?” She’s grinning, exuberant even, dropping the basket on the desk. He’s long since used to sudden intrusions, especially from Mist, and waits a moment before responding, eyes never leaving the papers he’s notating.

“That seems unnecessary,” is his simple answer, and Mist pouts.

“I’m getting better Soren, I swear. Look!” She thrusts a wooden hoop out, with colorfully decorated white linen stretched on it. The ‘pattern' is uneven, with loose threads and far too many colors. A waste of perfectly fine thread, Soren thinks. He only looks for a moment, then makes another note.

“I still don’t see why you should be needling my clothes.” He sighs, putting down his quill to look at Mist fully. She’s indignant.

“Just to look nice,” she throws her hands in the air, gesturing vaguely at Soren. “Everything you wear is so plain.”

“And I’d like it to stay that way.”  
  
“ _Fine…_ are you sure though? Or is it just me? I thought I was getting better!” She huffs, fingers running over her stitch-work. But she suddenly brightened as an idea struck her. “What if you did your own clothes?”

Soren shook his head, patience running thinner as he itched to get back to his work. 

“I can’t sew any better than you can.”

“So you _do_ think mine’s bad!” Soren’s brow twitched, but he didn’t object. “I could show you though! Titania taught me and it’s not so hard.”  
  
“Again, however, I don’t see the use.”

“Titania and Rhys could always use help mending things, they always do _everything_. I bet they’d even really appreciate it, too!” She grinned, perching her hands on the woven handle of the basket. “And, and, I’m always saying you should do more than write and read! It’s a skill!”

Mist is very good at getting her way, Soren knows this very well by now. It’s no wonder he gave in, knowing it was a fruitless battle; not to mention she wasn’t entirely wrong. Simple needlework was a valuable enough skill to have, and one Mist was proving to be especially inept at.

 _No fair you’re so much better at this_ , she’ll complain, but it still makes her glad when she catches Soren embroidering alone. And _then_ he gives her a pretty flowered headband for her birthday and Mist can’t help but wrap him up in a huge hug which make him even more cherry red.

Yeah, Mist _loves_ Soren.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything I write is at 2-5am and never proofread. I will die like a man.


	3. Titania & Mist

[640]

Titania is looking over their expenses when Soren enters, immediately apologetic for disturbing her. She sets her reading glasses to the side though, and smiles kindly, ushering him inside the small room. 

"I just came to grab a book, that's all." Soren says. 

She nods, picking one up off the desk she sat at.  "This, right?" He nods, and she trades it into his small hands. "When's your birthday, Soren? I should know so I can prepare." 

The question throws him off, and he looks pained, though he hides it well. Titania is afraid she'd made a misstep without thinking. Soren never reacted well to anything pertaining to his time before the mercenaries. She's about to apologize before he speaks up,

"I don't know." He's recovered his stoic facade, and it's not like he cared so much about a date, and even more he really did not want Titania, or anyone, spending money on his behalf out of a misguided obligation —not to mention he kept the things he knew about himself very close, and the things he did not know far outnumbered them. 

Her smile is sadder than before, but still beautiful. More kindness than Soren knows to do with. "Well, how about the first day you came to us? we could celebrate it next year."

He shook his head. "I'd prefer not to, really. It's unnecessary."

She isn't one to push something rather inconsequential, and concedes easily. "If that's what you want. Ike's birthday is soon though, and I bet he'd appreciate it if you participated with us." 

_That_ was certainly more interesting to Soren, and though he hadn't thought about it before it suddenly seemed very important. Most children did seem to take things like that very seriously, and it gave Soren a chance to show how much he appreciated him. But… his fingers drummed on the spine of his book.

"I can help you pick something out for him when we go to town next," Titania says knowingly and Soren blushes at being read so easily. Titania is very good at that, no matter how practiced his walls were trying to be. 

A month later, Ike doesn't even think to wonder how Soren knew it was his birthday, but is quite overjoyed when Soren is the first to give him well-wishes in the morning and present him with a pair of nice leather gloves.

* * *

[645]

Mist knew when she asked Soren for a new sketchbook on his next shopping trip it was beyond a long shot; they were always short on funds for one reason or another. And yet…  And yet, and yet, there he stood a few days later, offering an albeit small drawing book in one hand, looking as unaffected as possible. Mist let out little more than a sharp gasp before111 wrapping her arms around Soren enthusiastically. 

"Oh Soren! Thank you, thank you so much! You have no idea… I'm so glad you're my brother!" She cheered, or so it sounded, directly in the mage's ear. 

He was in turn dumbfounded, already uncomfortable with the contact he turned rigid in her grasp before he could even fumble to remove her. Thankfully the girl quickly noticed his discomfort, apologizing meekly she stepped a half step away, holding the sketchbook in both hands.  "Sorry, sorry, I just got so excited—wait, Soren why do you look like that?" 

Brown furrowed, Soren clung to the sheaf of paper in his arms. "You said—called me… your…" He floundered, waving a hand vaguely. "Brother." He finished lamely. 

And Mist, well, she just  _ laughs _ at him. 

"Duh! We basically grew up together Soren! You're a precious part of my family, not to mention how you and Ike are. I really don't get you sometimes."  She's smiling, watching the red creep into Soren's face, and she can't help but revel in how flustered he was, it was rare indeed to see Soren emote this much at all. 

"How Ike and I..? What are you even  _ saying _ ?" 

Mist laughs again, patting his back as she walks around him, "I know both of you, remember? Are you really surprised I know?" 

"You're mistaken—Mist, we aren't _ —Ike _ isn't," 

She shakes her head and cuts him off, "Whatever you say, Soren. I'm still holding out for the day you become my brother in-law." 

" _ Mist _ ," He chokes out, beyond words. 

She just laughs and laughs, because she knows, no matter what Soren says, or how oblivious her own brother is. She got a new sketchbook and a fun teasing out of Soren, and pleased as punch she waves and wanders off. Left alone, Soren does all he can to put it out of his mind, flattening his robes and running his hands over his hair as if he'd become unpresentable from the conversation alone. 

He never considered himself a part of, of their  _ family _ . He'd always felt like an outsider looking in, obtrusive with his presence and selfish in his actions. The very thought of relying on them filled his chest with guilt, memories of Titania caressing him as he cried brought far more shame than warmth. Perhaps she did serve as some sort of surrogate mother to Ike and Mist--arguably even Boyd and Rolf who were just as young. But Soren he had never… even thought for but a moment he could be perceived as anything more than something to be put up with, or something to be used. Certainly not as a _brother_. 

He wasn't sure how it made him feel, beyond vaguely sick. Mist was too kind for her own good, and twice as much too nosy. He made up his mind to recheck and double check again their entire inventory, pushing away Mist's words to be replaced with stacks of numbers. 


End file.
